


In Body Only

by whatsanapocalae



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: AFAB Terminology, Age Difference, Baby Nero (Devil May Cry), Daddy Issues, M/M, Oral Sex, Pregnancy Scares, Strip Tease, Trans Male Character, Underage Drinking, Unprotected Sex, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:41:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27583535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatsanapocalae/pseuds/whatsanapocalae
Summary: Vergil's desperate for some sort of relationship, something akin to love. He goes to Arkham for it, who's into the physicality of it but would never really care for him. He misses having a father. He misses feeling safe.
Relationships: Arkham | Jester/Vergil (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	In Body Only

Arkham opened the door to Vergil's third knock. It was late and he was dressed for sleep, something that Vergil hadn't thought to do in years. His sleepwear was much like his day wear, all black, covering as much of him as it could while still comfortable. 

"Is there something I can help you with?" Arkham asked, looking Vergil over. 

Vergil hoped that he couldn't see how nervous he was. He'd been thinking of this for a while, and he'd tried to hype himself up for it, but there was still a ping of anxiety in him. There was always the chance that he wouldn't be wanted and he thought that, from Arkham, that would hurt more than it had with any of his other trysts. 

"I thought I might seduce you," Vergil said, holding up a bottle of Fini Porta, an expensive wine he'd picked up earlier in the day. 

Arkham took the bottle from him, looking it over and whistling over the label. 1959 was a good year, or so the sommelier had told him. Arkham didn't ask him how he'd gotten it, how he'd done his research before sneaking in the back and stealing a bottle, no money to his name and too young to be drinking anyway. 

"And what, pray tell, did you expect of me?" Arkham asked, going back into the room he'd claimed as his own in the tower. They hadn't raised it yet, it was still underground, but they'd taken up residence within it. A few more days, that was all it would take, and then they'd be able to bring the history of demonology back into the world. 

"Your company," Vergil stated, hiding his true desire, "We are allies now, we must spend time together outside of work to keep that up."

"Hmm," Arkham pulled down a pair of wine glasses and poured for them both. He rolled the stem between his fingers, letting the wine oxidize, before bringing it to his nose and sniffing it. The scars on his face recoiled from the alcohol and danced on his brow. "Company doesn't suit either of us, neither does dishonesty. You came to seduce and to bribe, that calls for more than just chat." 

Vergil stepped into the room, more of an alcove, and closed the door behind him. He wasn't transparent but he was definitely not hiding this well. "Would it be wrong if I wanted us to be a little bit closer? We need to know one another in order to keep this partnership going."

Arkham didn't smile. He didn't even pretend to be social. He handed Vergil a glass and waved him towards the love seat along the back wall. There was a stack of books beside it, as well an a hardbound journal for Arkham's research. Vergil followed him, sat. He hadn't seen any other furniture in Temen Ni Gru, so Arkham must have brought it on his own accord. It was comfortable. Vergil wasn't but the seat was. He didn't remember the last time he'd been comfortable though. 

He drank from some of the wine. It tasted like tannin. Arkham seemed to be enjoying his a great deal more. Perhaps it was a human thing. 

"Speak plainly, Vergil, this is unbecoming of you." 

Vergil bit his lip and rubbed at his fingers. He didn't know how to ask for this. He did want Arkham's company, that was true, but it was a specific type of company that he wanted to keep. He wanted the man to like him, he wanted Arkham to stay, longer than just until their goals were fulfilled. He felt things for Arkham that he couldn't describe, couldn't make sense of. Parts of him hated Arkham, others loved him, others were envious of him and his knowledge, others thought he was a foolish and pathetic mortal. 

It took him a long time, just sitting there, thinking of what he wanted to say. He'd rehearsed this, in his head, many times, but now that he was here, now that he was trying to say it, it was all muddled in his brain. 

"I was thinking," he started. 

"I'd say you were doing too much of that," Arkham interrupted, putting his hand on Vergil's thigh. It tingled at the contact and Vergil thought to roll his hips, make that hand slide up to his crotch. "You are a smart man, Vergil, too smart for your own good. Sometimes, thinking breeds hesitation." 

"I want you to touch me," Vergil said, hoping that was plain enough. "You have been alone for years, and I have been without for a while, and I feel that our having intercourse would only benefit our continued relationship." 

Arkham put his glass on the side table, drained empty, and put his hand on Vergil's chin, tipping it up so that they could look at each other. Arkham wasn't exactly handsome, even without the scars swimming through his skin, there was something wrong with the way his eyes roamed, the sallow of his cheeks, and the lack of eyebrows. He wasn't Vergil's type, physically, but that didn't matter, not really. 

Arkham had experience. He had this energy to him that Vergil needed. It was in his eyes when he spoke of Mary, even though he was using her as a warning. He was protective, he had ownership, he had everything that Vergil had always wanted. He wanted a father and Arkham, with all his flaws, still had that paternal patterning. He couldn't have the relationship as Arkham's son but he hoped, through his body, that he could have Arkham in some capacity. 

Arkham stood up, moved across the room and Vergil's heart sank. He'd failed. He shouldn't have come here, shouldn't have hoped. He thought there was at least something enticing about him, that he was at least attractive enough that he could satisfy Arkham's carnal needs. He wondered if it was because of his masculinity, Arkham had been married to a woman, after all. 

Arkham poured himself another glass of wine. "And where is the brat?" 

Vergil shivered. As much as Arkham still had parental energies he was doing his best to dash them. Vergil didn't like the way that Arkham referred to Rodin, he wasn't a brat at all. He was just a baby. He was small and precious and weak and those were all things that Arkham said would get him killed. Vergil knew it to be true. What they were doing, he wouldn't be able to protect his son during that and, after, he would eb too busy, too inhuman, to take care of a child. 

"He won't bother us," Vergil stated. Rodin had been put to bed and he was a good boy, a very sound sleeper. Vergil was weak for him, hated him for it, because weakness was the enemy. But he couldn't stop himself from being weak, from standing beside the makeshift crib, Rodin's hand wrapped around and barely squeezing Vergil's finger in his sleep. 

"Good," Arkham drank the second glass of wine faster than the first and poured a third, though this one he brought back to the loveseat. "You don't approve?" he asked, pointing out Vergil's glass. 

Vergil drank from it, a big heavy gulp, and tried to ignore the taste of it. Note of this that and the other but Vergil couldn't taste any of that finery. "It's fine." 

"Why do you want to pursue me?" Arkham returned to the conversation, sitting that he was facing Vergil, cheek resting on fist, elbow resting on the back of the small couch. Where there knees touched there was electricity. "I'm old enough to be your father."

"Precisely," Vergil nodded, "You know what you're doing and what you want." 

His hand snaked out, traced over Vergil's arm. "We want the same thing." 

"Power, yes." 

"You claim you want to rule over demons, that you want control, but you want me to have power over you." 

"Yes." 

"You want me to tell you what to do." 

"Yes." 

"What else?" 

Vergil swallowed. His mouth tasted terrible, tongue dry and fat in his mouth. "I want to make you proud."

The scar trailed around his eye. "Then show me. Give me something to be proud of." 

Vergil drained his glass and slipped down, off the loveseat and to the floor. Arkham turned and spread his legs, giving him space between them. He shouldn't have had that wine, he wanted his tongue wet for this, wanted that saliva to ease the way. He stroked up Arkham's thighs, tried to ignore the way the man was staring at him, almost unblinking, and pushed the material of his black lounge pants tight enough that he could see the semi hardness of his penis through it. 

He licked his lips, hoping to make this a little bit easier, and pulled Arkham's erection free. Even at half hardness his size was exhilarating, and the head was reddened from circumcision. He leaned forward, licking at the head before taking it into his mouth. It tasted of sweat and salt and wasn't altogether pleasant but it wasn't as if Arkham knew this was going to happen. 

His eyelashes fluttered as the penis hardened against his lips, on his tongue. He rolled the head against the roof of his mouth as he came closer, burying his nose in the soft flesh of Arkham's lean stomach. He hadn't expected Arkham to be completely hairless but, from the lack of eyebrows he should have considered it a possibility. 

He bobbed his head back and forth, taking Arkham's length deeper each time. Is mouth was starting to water, to aid in his pleasuring. Vergil looked up, hoping that he would find Arkham with his head tilted back, with arousal clear in his face. Instead he looked bored, only half paying attention to Vergil as he drank from his cup. 

Vergil's heart sank. He wasn't good at this. He'd already supposed it, he didn't even enjoy fellating people, it did nothing for him, but he thought there was at least something about it that he was decent at. He wanted Arkham to run his hands through his hair as he suckled on him. He wanted Arkham to moan beneath him. Mostly, he wanted Arkham to be proud of him. 

"Come now," Arkham instructed, "Undress. Show me what I'm working with." 

Vergil stood up, taking off his bright satin coat and tossing it, lovingly onto a nearby table. 

"You can do better than that," Arkham exhaled through his nose, "You're an attractive man, you should show that." 

So Vergil did, undid his vest slowly, revealing his slim waist and androgynous form more readily. He took off his boots, stretching to get his foot on the table for each, showing off how flexible he was. He unbuttoned his shirt, one button at a time, before pulling off his cravat and tossing it over to Arkham, who caught it easily with the hand not holding the wine glass. 

He left his shirt on as he worked on his pants, turned away from Arkham. He knew that Arkham knew his physiology but it as still awkward. He found, as well, that he was no enjoying this aspect of intercourse. He knew that he was attractive, Arkham knew, as well, he didn't need to stand away from him and put on a show as if he were just here for entertainment. He wanted to be held and ravished, his clothing pulled from him and his body worshiped. This made him feel like Arkham was the only one who mattered. Part of him knew that was on purpose. 

He turned back, his pants folded and set with the rest, to find Arkham palming himself. There were only a few sips of wine left in the glass and his attention was on Vergil, finally, as he worked his shaft. At that Vergil finally felt the thrill of approval, of being wanted. He could feel himself grow wet under that gaze. He rolled his shoulders and his shirt slid down his arms. He pulled it off the rest of the way and, for a moment, thought to cover himself, to put his hands over his chest or over the cunt, wrapped gently in white fur. 

Arkham breathed him in before raising a hand, offering it. Vergil took a few nervous steps forward before that hand took his and he was led in, led up, not straddling Arkham's hips but standing over him. He didn't understand what Arkham was up to, not until he put his hand to Vergil's labia and spread the flesh, putting the flat of his tongue against Vergil's clit. 

Vergil moaned as that tongue searched him, pushing to one side then the other, thoroughly wetting him. When Arkham stopped licking and started to suck, the pressure strong and steady Vergil's knees buckled and he grabbed onto Arkham's head, keeping himself from falling, begging him with hands alone to go deeper, to do more. Arkham did, lapping at his pussy and sliding his tongue inside, grazing his sensitive clit with his teeth, not letting up until Vergil was cumming so hard that his legs shook, unable to stop himself from humping the man's face with how his muscles clenched. 

He stayed there for a while, just breathing, before Arkham tugged on him, hands moving to his waist. He let himself be pulled down, let Arkham press his cockhead into him. He was still fully dressed but there was a power to that that Vergil couldn't deny. Vergil's nudity was a sacrifice, was his being vulnerable to this man in authority, who he was so desperate to please. 

Arkham groaned as he pushed up and into that needy hole, the first sound he'd made without his volition. Arkham was no where near the largest Vergil had taken but it had been almost a year and he was so aroused, so desperate for him, that it felt amazing. It felt fulfilling. 

"Prove to me I've made the right decision," Arkham commanded once he he'd bottomed out, all the way in to the part of Vergil that ached at contact. 

Vergil didn't want to disappoint him. He didn't want Arkham to leave. He put his hands on Arkham's shoulders and started to fuck him, bringing his hips up so that he was almost devoid before thrusting back down. He grit his teeth, bouncing on Arkham's lap, hoping for something, anything. He wanted to be told he was doing a good job, told that this wasn't a mistake. He wanted Arkham to tell him that he loved him, but he knew that wasn't true. Arkham wouldn't, neither one of them was made to love or be loved. They were two terrible men on a search for power and willing to do anything for it. Love wasn't something that they deserved. 

"Right there," Arkham moaned and Vergil shoved down again and again, right there, making Arkham's breathing hike up. It felt good, it felt fulfilling, but not enough. Vergil wanted more. He didn't know what of but he wanted more. 

He got more before he could ask, Arkham grabbing and lifting him by the rear, pulling out of him completely. The position was switched fast enough that Vergil was only aware of how because of his heightened senses and he was laid out over the length of the small couch, his long legs shoved up and over his head, knees pressed into the material on either side of his head. Arkham's hands were rough as he kept them on Vergil's strong thighs, crouching over him, slipping his dark red cock back into Vergil's gooey hole. 

He was more vocal now as he fucked Vergil, feeling larger, like he was going deeper, making Vergil whimper and moan as he struck against Vergil's cervix over and over, as if he wanted to break through it. It felt so good but each time he struck that spot it hurt and Vergil could only take it, grip tightly at the cushion and moan. 

Admitting to pain would be a weakness. 

Arkham's rhythm grew cumbersome, messy, and he was close. 

"Are you?" Vergil asked but he was unable to finish his question before Arkhma shoved in as deep as he could, phallus twitching as he spilled his seed into Vergil. It felt like it took minutes for him to finish ejaculating, biting his lip as he did. 

Vergil's ind was racing. He hadn't thought that Arkham would want to cum inside of him, that he'd want to risk the side effects of their coupling. He thought they were of like mind on that. 

When Arkham got off of him he stretched out, let the semen and his own vaginal fluids spill out of him. He didn't care about the loveseat, hadn't even before he'd been fucked on it. He wasn't sure if he should say something, if he should try to get all of that seed out of him. 

Arkham picked up the cravat that had been tossed over to them and wiped his penis clean with it, as if it were just a napkin and Vergil's stomach twisted. The man was older, winded, and he sat there for a long moment, not saying anything, not giving Vergil the praise that he so desperately wanted. After a while he got up and poured the last of the wine into his glass, drinking it steadily and looking Vergil over.

"Was that what you wanted?" he asked, his voice as deep and steady as always, his breathing back under control, his penis, now soft, back in its place within his black pants. 

It was and it wasn't. Vergil wanted more, he wanted less. He didn't want there to be ejaculate inside of him but he hadn't thought that through. He wanted to be wrapped up, under the blankets, cared for and feeling safe. He wanted someone to tell him he was doing the right thing, that he was good, that he was loved. He wanted to be cuddled and kissed and pampered. 

He wasn't the kind of man to receive that and Arkham wasn't the kind of man to give that. 

"Yes," he lied. 

Arkham didn't point out the lie. He just stood by the table with his wine and looked at Vergil again. He was a quiet man and the worst thing about him was that Vergil couldn't read him. He wondered if that was something that had attracted him to him, the fact that Arkham was clever and quick and held himself above humans. He was certain it was. 

"If you have the urge to spread your legs again," Arkham started and Vergil recoiled, that was the opposite of what he wanted, to be treated like he was just lustful, "then feel free to stop by again. I may have some ideas for you then." 

Vergil pulled himself up off the loveseat, feeling his thighs be tacky, wet, and shaky. He grabbed his clothes and quickly dressed, wishing he could clean up as well. There were no showers in Temen Ni Gru and he didn't trust the waterfalls to be of his standards. He'd make something work though. 

"Three days," he stated, hoping that he sounded composed. 

"Three days and then we will raise this tower to the Heavens, you and me, together," Arkham agreed, "and we will be unstoppable." 

Vergil nodded and he took his leave, abandoning his ruined cravat. He stepped out of the room before summoning Yamato, cutting a hole into the air and stepping into town. There had to be some place where he could get cleaned up and possibly get something to keep Arkham's seed from taking. 

He got to the first alley before he stopped, resting against it, his eyes on the ground. It was dark, there was no one there, and he wanted to cry but he couldn't. Even to himself he couldn't show weakness. He just wanted his father to wrap him up in his arms, to kiss his temple, to make everything alright. But he hadn't had a father for years and there was no way he was going to find that sort of comfort in Arkham. He was fairly certain that sex alone wouldn't be enough to make Arkham stay. A father or a lover, he wanted both, he wanted to know what to do, he wanted to have the authority over his actions. He was a son of Sparda and he was the heir to Sparda's legacy, but he had no idea how to be either.

**Author's Note:**

> Rodin was Nero's name back when they were conceptualizing him but it was changed to Nero because Rodin sounded "too smart" so I think Vergil would have named him something like that and then when abandoned him (maybe the day or so after this) the orphanage renamed him.


End file.
